So, now she had a computer. If she only had her helmet then she could send the commander an e-mail. As it was, all she could do was run some text across her chest.
CHAPTER 4: Brothers With Arms
Tern Mór. Northern Peninsula.
Julius Root was surprised to find that he was breathing hard. There was a time when he could have run all day without breaking a sweat, and now his heart was battering his ribcage after a mere two-mile jog. He had parked the shuttle on a foggy cliff top on the island's northern peak. Of course, the fog was artificial, generated by a compressor bolted on to the shuttle's exhaust.The shuttle's projection shield was still in operation, the fog was merely a backup.
Root ran low, bent almost double. A hunter's run. As he moved he felt the primal joy that only surface air could bring. The sea crashed on all sides; an ever-present behemoth, a reminder of the Earth's power. Commander Julius Root was never happier than when he was on the hunt above ground. Strictly speaking, he could have delegated these initiations, but he wouldn't give up these excursions until the first rookie beat him. It hadn't happened yet.
Nearly two hours later the commander paused, taking a deep swallow from a canteen. This hunt would have been much easier with a pair of mechanical wings, but in the name of fair play he had left the wings on their rack in the shuttle. He would not have anyone claim that he had beaten them with superior equipment.
Root had searched all the obvious sites, and had yet to find Corporal Short. Holly had not been on the beach, or in the old quarry. Neither had she been perched in a treetop in the evergreen wood. Perhaps she was smarter than the average cadet. She would need to be. For a female to survive in Recon, she would have to rise above a lot of suspicion and prejudice. Not that the commander was tempted to cut her any slack. He would treat her with the same brash disdain that all his subordinates pot. Until thev earned something better.
Root continued his search, senses alert to any change in his surroundings that could indicate he himself was being tracked. The two hundred or so species of birds that nested on Tern Mór's crags were unusually active. Gulls screeched at him from overhead, crows followed his movements, and Julius even spotted an eagle spying at him from the heavens. All this noise made it more difficult for him to concentrate, but the distraction would be even worse for Corporal Short.
Root jogged up a shallow incline towards the human dwelling. Short could not be inside the actual dwelling itself, but she could be using it for cover. The commander hugged the thicket, his dull green LEP jumpsuit blending with the foliage.
Julius heard something up ahead. An irregular scraping. The noise of material against rock. He froze, then slowly twisted his way into the foliage itself. A disgruntled rabbit turned tail, wriggling deeper into the hedgerow. Root ignored the brambles dragging at his elbows, inching forward towards the source of the noise. It could be nothing, but on the other hand it could be everything.
It turned out to be everything. From his shelter inside the thicket, Root could clearly see Holly hunkered behind a large rock. It wasn't a particularly clever hiding place. She was sheltered from an easterly approach, but otherwise she was wide open. Captain Kelp was not visible, possibly filming from a raised vantage point.
Root sighed. He was surprised to find that he was disappointed. It would have been nice to have a girl around the place. Someone new to shout at.
Julius drew his paintball pistol, poking the barrel through spirals of briar branches. He would tag her a couple of times just to make an impression. Short had better wake up and do better if she ever wanted the Recon insignia on her lapel.
There was no need for Root to use the sights on his helmet. It was an easy shot, barely twenty feet. And even if it hadn't been, Root would not have used his visor. Short didn't have electronic sights, so he wouldn't use them either. This would give him even more to shout about after the failed initiation.
Then Holly turned in the direction of the thicket. She still couldn't see him, but he could see her. And even more importantly, he could read the words scrolling across her chest.
TURNBALL + 2.
Commander Root drew his gun barrel back into the thicket, retreating into the blackness of the overgrowth.
Root battled to contain his emotions. Turnball was back. And he was here. How was it possible? All the old feelings quickly resurfaced, lodging in the commander's stomach. Turnball was his brother, and a nub of affection for him still remained. But the overriding emotion was sadness. Turnball had betrayed the People, and had been willing to see many of them die for his own profit. He had allowed his brother to escape once before, he would not let it happen again.
Root wiggled backwards through the thicket, then activated his helmet. He tried establishing a link with Police Plaza, but all he got on the helmet radio was white noise. Turnball must have detonated a jammer.
Turnball may control the airwaves, but he could not control the air itself. And any living thing would heat the air. Root lowered a thermal filter on his visor and began a slow grid search of the area behind Corporal Short.
The commander's search did not take too long. Two red slits shone like beacons among the pale pink of insect and rodent life teeming under the field's surface. The slits were probably caused by a body-heat leakage from underneath two sheets of cam foil. Snipers. Lying in wait for him. These fairies were not professional. If they had been, they would have kept their gun barrels beneath the sheet until they were needed, thus eliminating the overspill.
Root holstered his paintball pistol, drawing instead a Neutrino 500. Usually in combat situations he carried a tri-barrelled water-cooled blaster, but he hadn't been expecting combat. He berated himself silently. Idiot. Combat does not arrange itself around schedules.
The commander circled round behind the snipers, then put two bursts into them from a distance. This may not be the most sporting course of action, but it was definitely the most prudent. By the time the snipers regained consciousness they would be shackled to each other in the back of a police shuttle. If by some chance he had stunned two innocents, then there would be no lasting after effects.
Commander Root trotted to the first hide, drawing back the sheet of cam foil. There was a dwarf in the hollow beneath. An ugly little spud. Root recognized him from his Wanted sheet. Bobb Ragby. A nasty character. Just the kind of dim-witted felon Turnball would recruit to his cause. Root kneeled by the dwarf, disarming him and zipping plasti-cuffs round his wrists and ankles.
He quickly crossed the fifty metres to the second sniper-hide. Another well-known fugitive: Unix B'Lob. The grounded sprite. He had beenTurnball's right-hand fairy for decades now. Root grinned tightly as he bound the unconscious sprite. Even these two would be a good day's work. But the day wasn't over yet.
Holly was surreptitiously worming the spike from the ground when Root arrived.
'Can I give you a hand with that?' asked Julius.
'Get down, Commander,' hissed Holly. 'There are two rifles trained on you right now.'
Root patted the guns slung over his shoulder. 'You mean these rifles. I got your text. Well done.' He wrapped his fingers round the chain, yanking it from the earth. 'The parameters of your assignment have changed.'
You don't say, thought Holly.
Root used an Omnitool to pop open the shackle.
'This is no longer an exercise. We are now in a combat situation, with a hostile and presumably armed opponent.'
Holly rubbed her ankle where the shackle had chafed. 'Your brother,Turnball, has Captain Kelp in the human dwelling. He has threatened to feed him a Tunnel Blue spider if anything goes wrong with the plan.'
Root sighed, leaning against the rock. 'We can't go inside the dwelling. If we do, not only are we disorientated, but the arrest won't be legal. Turnball is clever. Even if we did outsmart his goons, we couldn't take the house.'
'We could use laser sights and knock out the target,' suggested Holly. 'Then Captain Kelp could walk out himself.'
If the t
arget had been anyone else besides his own brother, Root would have smiled. 'Yes, Corporal Short. We could do that.'
Root and Holly double-timed to a ridge overlooking the human dwelling. The cottage was in a hollow, surrounded by silver birch trees.
The commander scratched his chin. 'We have to get closer. I need to get a clean shot through one of the windows. One chance may be all we get.'
'Should I take one rifle, sir?' asked Holly.
'No. You're not licensed for weapons. Captain Kelp's life is at stake here, so I need steady fingers on the trigger. And even if you did bag Turnball, it would blow our entire case.'
'So what can I do?'
Root checked the load in both weapons. 'Stay here. If Turnball gets me, then go back to the shuttle and activate the distress signal. If help doesn't arrive and you see Turnball coming, then set the self-destruct.'
'But I can fly the shuttle,' protested Holly. 'I have hundreds of hours on the simulators.'